


You Still Have All Of Me

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: 3k of porn with feelings, Animalistic Behavior, Biting, Cum Play, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Jealous!Geralt, Mild Praise Kink, NSFW, Scent Marking, Some angst, geralt is insecure and a lil dumb but we love him, possessive!Geralt, pwp + feelings, y'all gonna need a shower after this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Summary: Geralt can smell another man on you. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 401





	You Still Have All Of Me

Monogamy had never been Geralt's strong suit. It wasn't conducive to the life he lived, always traveling, always in danger. Any connection he formed tended to be fleeting and trivial.

In spite of that, you had somehow captivated him, taken hold of his heart and convinced him to make an effort. To try and be for you what he'd never been able to be for others.

Which was why he couldn't understand, as he stood by your bedside watching you sleep, why the smell of another man permeated your home. It made something bitter and nasty in him stir, his territory being  _ invaded _ by another.

Everything in him went cold, thinking perhaps that he'd taken too long this time. That you'd grown tired of waiting, tired of his leaving, and had come to your senses and moved on to a more….sensible lover.

He closed his eyes, slowly absorbing the ache that spread through him as he pictured you in another's arms.

Opening his eyes, Geralt looked down at you, peaceful and smiling faintly in your sleep. He was torn. On the one hand, he wanted you to be happy. On the other, he wanted to find the man whose scent clung and mingled with yours and tear his fucking throat out.

He hated that he was feeling this way. He wasn't some beast that was enslaved to his baser instincts, didn't want to be that way with you. But when he smelled another man  _ in your bed _ it woke up something feral in him that insisted he needed to  _ fix this. _ To eradicate the invader's scent with his own.

He growled a quiet curse before he could restrain it. Saw you stir, considered vanishing in the time it took for your eyes to flutter open and find him.

Instead he stayed still as a statue. Felt the ice in his veins start to melt and boil at the soft smile that tugged your lips up.

"Geralt….I didn't think you'd be back so soon," you murmured, sitting up. Geralt exhaled hard through his nose, jaw clenching. Your brow furrowed as you watched him. "Geralt?"

He slid away from your fingers brushing along the back of his wrist. Despised the hurt that flashed across your features. But he couldn't bear the scent of that other man that clung to your skin, thought he might go mad if you spread that smell onto him.

But your scent on his skin was familiar and soothing, made him long for your touch, itch to touch you in return until you smelled of  _ him _ instead of that.....that  _ trespasser. _

His nostrils flared, breathing in your scent wafting on his skin and he  _ craved  _ you, wanted to taste you, drown with you in his lungs. He itched to have you writhing beneath him, his lips on your skin; he wanted to kiss and bite possession into your skin, until you trembled with need and all you could think of was his name, his touch, the effect he had on you as he left a trail of ownership in your flesh so no one else would ever again dare to touch what was  _ his. _

"Geralt? What's the matter? Are you hurt?" Your voice was quiet and concerned, pleading, and it grated on his already-raw nerves.

"Not in the way you're thinking," he gritted out. He couldn't lose you to another. Not without fighting tooth and nail to keep you.

Perhaps he could remind you why you'd chosen him in the first place. And if he could get rid of that damned scent and replace it with a preferable one in the process, replace it with  _ his _ scent mixing with yours, then all the better.

The thought of you bearing his claim was what finally drove him over the edge.

With a low, possessive growl, Geralt brought one knee on the bed to lean closer to you. He took your face in his hands and claimed your mouth with his own. He heard your quiet gasp of surprise, waited for you to push him away, tell him to stop.

Instead quiet pleasure curled through your scent and welcomed him, your fingers fisting in his hair as you returned his kiss, meeting his lust with your own passion.

It was all he needed.

He sunk his teeth into your lip as he unlaced your nightgown, pushing it off your shoulders so it pooled around your hips, leaving you bare from the waist up. You shivered and he growled, sliding his hands to massage your breasts as his lips sought your pulse point. He thumbed your nipples until they hardened under his touch, pinched them lightly until you hissed and then released them, soothing with gentle touches.

As you moaned and arched into his touch he laved your throat with his tongue before sinking his teeth into your flesh, ensuring you would carry the mark of his claim at least a while longer. You cried out and he felt your fingers digging into his nape. He groaned into your skin, felt you quiver beneath him. Geralt pulled back to look at you.

The moonlight was dim, but he had no trouble seeing you. Flushed, pupils dilated, a ring of teeth marks and his saliva on your throat where it wouldn't be hidden by your collar. He rubbed his thumb along the love bite, felt a primal, possessive sort of pleasure surge through him.

You mewled his name softly, needy and breathless. The heady scent of your arousal pooling between your legs further stoked his need.

Impatient, he yanked at your nightgown, heard quiet pops as threads gave way. You laid back, squirming and lifting your hips so he could pull it down your legs and cast it aside. He was pleased to note that you wore no small clothes underneath, no more barriers between him and what he wanted. Now that you were bare before him, he took a moment to admire your pretty slick folds,your trembling thighs and the way your chest heaved as you panted. Took a moment to bask in the knowledge that this was all for  _ him, _ that for now at least, you were still undoubtably his.

"Geralt," you whined. You spread your legs a bit in invitation and he growled. He seized your wrists, pinned them above your head with one hand and leaned over you. You looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded with desire. His other hand clamped on your thigh and yanked you to the middle of the bed. You yelped as he roughly repositioned you and he briefly froze, waiting for rebuttal. But you only bit your lip and hooked a leg around his thigh, watching him eagerly.

He fumbled with his pants, not bothering to pull them off. Impatient, he got his belt and zipper undone only enough to pull his throbbing cock out. He lined himself up and pushed into your slick tight heat, bottoming out in one thrust.

He swore quietly,you were so tight as you clenched around him and cried out his name. You flexed against his grip as you arched. His free hand hitched under your knee, guided it up his thigh and around his hips. Following his lead, you locked your legs around him, dragging him closer, guiding him deeper.

Geralt groaned. His hand locked on your hip, his other squeezing your wrists. You whimpered quietly, trembling with need.

"Geralt," you gasped. "P-please--"

Geralt hissed in pleasure as you clenched around him. It truly had been too long. He leaned over you, gruff voice low and almost velvety as you spoke near your ear. "What do you need, dove?"

You shuddered in pleasure and a fine tremble went through Geralt as you pushed down on him as much as you could while he had you pinned.

_ "Move," _ you whined desperately. " _ Please, _ Geralt--"

He interrupted you with a bruising kiss, tongue demanding entrance that you gladly granted. The sound of you moaning his name was nearly enough to make him come undone, but with no way of knowing if this would be his last time having you this way, he was determined to draw this out, to make it last.

He pulled away, eyes burning molten gold with lust as he greedily drank in the sight of your lips swollen and plush from his kiss. He kept his eyes locked on your face as he pulled out slightly before thrusting back in. Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned his name.

Geralt pressed his face against the side of your throat, the unblemished curve of flesh he hadn't marked yet. He breathed in your scent, undiluted. Sweat and soap and potent arousal and the light, pleasant scent that always clung to your skin. He could no longer smell the other man on you and it filled him with visceral pleasure.

With his grip on your hip he hitched you up for a better angle, began to thrust into you in short, sharp bursts, fucking you while still mostly clothed. You cried out his name and he felt you strain against his hold, knew you wanted to touch, but right now he needed to  _ claim. _

Geralt growled your name low, releasing your hip to slide his thumb into your slick folds, massaging your clit as he snapped his hips.

"A-ah!" you cried, thrusting your hips with wanton abandon now that he no longer held you down. "Geralt, I-I-- _ fuck-- _ G-Geralt, I'm gonna--"

Geralt laved your throat, savoring the taste of you. "Cum for me," he commanded with a thrust of his hips.

You did so with a cry of his name. Geralt sank his teeth into your skin, feeling your pulse race as you clenched around him. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting off his own orgasm, not ready for this to end yet.

He released your wrists to encircle you in his arms, pressing a kiss to the bruise he'd bitten into your collar bone. Immediately you began to pet your hands through his hair, murmuring breathlessly.

"Feels so good, Geralt, oh gods, it's so much, so amazing, you're so good--" you moaned and whimpered from overstimulation as he rocked against you again. He felt your nails digging into his nape again, fingers fisting around the fabric of his shirt, scraping his shoulder, driving him wild. Geralt groaned quietly. "Gonna cum for me?" you hummed breathlessly. He groaned again, gave a few more thrusts and knew he was done.

He pulled out, kissed you feverishly and panted against your lips. You reached down, stroking his cock with lazy pumps as he fucked the circle you'd made with your fingers. Swiping your thumb over the head to gather precome to slick your way until he shuddered and spilled his seed onto your thigh, a bit splashing onto your stomach and breasts.

You stroked him through it, kissing his jaw and whispering praises in his ear, until he grunted and gently swatted your hand away. He straightened up, feeling overheated in his clothes so he peeled them off and dropped them carelessly on your floor. You admired his muscles, slick with sweat, as he stripped. 

The dim moonlight made his skin glisten, highlighting the curves of his thighs and the dip of his collarbone, and his hair shone like spun silver. He looked unreal, ethereal, and your breath caught quietly as his amber eyes fixed on you.

Specifically, his heated gaze locked on your thighs, where your cum mixed with his in a pleasing aroma. His nostrils flared as he breathed in deep, eyelids going heavy. Watching him curiously, you bit your lip and trailed your fingers through the mess. His eyes shot to your face as you brought your fingers to your lips, sucking some of his cum off your fingertips with a little hum. He inhaled sharply, crawled over to you with lithe grace and rippling muscles. He braced his arms on the mattress on either side of you, kissing you deeply. He groaned from something like satisfaction at the taste of himself on your tongue.

His hand came to rest on your thigh, fingers digging into the mess and pressing it into your skin. You shuddered a bit at the sensation of partially dried, sticky liquid spreading over your skin, wrinkling your nose a bit. But you indulged him as he spread it across your hip and into your thigh. His fingers paused before dipping into your slick core and, mimicking you, he sucked your release off his fingertips before leaning in to kiss you again. You groaned a bit, tasting yourself and tasting him as you kissed, your combined releases forming a unique taste that left you a bit giddy. It was a heady feeling that left you reeling.

His hand came up to cup your jaw, sticky, and you felt a slow trickle down the side of your throat. You whined softly at him, shoved him away and scrubbed your throat with your hand.

Geralt finally pulled back, looking a bit smug, eyes dark. You pouted at him, unamused, and crossed your arms. He breathed a throaty chuckle and gathered you into his arms, laid you on the bed and stretched out on his front next to you with his head on your chest.

You smoothed your fingers through his hair as the two of you slowly came down from the high of your orgasm, breaths slowing.

Geralt listened to your heartbeat slow down and go steady under his ear, breathing in the potent aroma of his arousal and release pressed into your skin, and felt the angry beast in him momentarily sated.

Geralt grumbled quietly, but you couldn't make out any words and thought it might be a vague displeasure of how...sticky the two of you were now. You chuckled a bit because that was entirely his own doing.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that all about?" you asked fondly.

Geralt went very still under you. It took a moment for it to register through the post-coital haze, but you knew his tells well enough by now to read the gathering tension in the coiled muscles of his shoulder blades.

"Geralt?" you questioned softly.

"I'm sorry," he muttered quietly.

"What?" you asked, bewildered. His fingers brushed your hip lightly, then your wrist. He wouldn't look at you as you gazed at the red imprints Geralt's fingers had left on your skin. "Hey. Geralt. It was all consensual. You have nothing to apologize for." You massaged the back of his neck gently, trying to coax him into relaxing with you again.

"I'm sorry I'm always gone, that I'm not….enough, for you," he muttered.

"Geralt, what are you--" You realized with slight horror that what you'd thought was sweat were actually tears dripping onto your skin.  _ "Geralt. _ You're worrying me, what are you talking about?"

You tried to duck down, catch his gaze, but he clung to you and hid his face against your throat, and you didn't have the heart to push him away. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, rubbed a hand up and down his back. "Talk to me, please," you begged quietly. Geralt shook in your arms silently for an agonizing minute.

"I know someone else has been in your bed," he finally muttered. His voice was low but you could hear the grief in it, the very slight tremble he tried to hide.

You froze, indignation giving way to understanding and fond exasperation as you just gaped down at the top of his head. He continued.

"I could  _ smell him,"  _ and now his voice was thick with rage, almost a snarl, and you understood why they called him the White Wolf, "in your home, on your _ skin _ \--"

"Geralt," you tried to interrupt. He kept talking right over you.

"I'm not angry with you, I know I've been gone a long time and that you...have needs that I'm not always here to provide for--"

"Geralt!"

"--and this would never have been a long term situation anyways, we agreed to try but that doesnt mean it's going to work out and that's fine--

"Geralt for gods' sakes!" you yelled. He flinched a bit and you immediately felt awful, but at least he'd stopped that heart-wrenching rambling. You pulled him close, kissed his forehead. "You're very lucky that I love you, because you really are incredibly stupid."

Geralt finally pulled back to stare at you. He had his stoic face on but you knew him well enough to read the hurt and confusion in his face. You stroked his jaw. "Why would I ever need another when I have you?" you murmured.

Geralt's eyes studied yours. "You don't always have me," he muttered. He very slightly pressed into your touch, like a cat seeking affection.

You sighed deeply. "I get lonely when you're gone," you admitted, and he went stiff as you continued. "But, Geralt. We made each other a promise, and I know you're a man of your word. I know you'll always come back to me. Or, if the situation isn't making you happy, you'll tell me up front." You gave him a wry smile. "You're very blunt and not one to waste your time pursuing something you don't feel is worthwhile. But, until that day comes, I know you're mine. And, likewise, I'm yours, unequivocally."

You saw the affect your words had on him, saw the minute softening around his eyes and felt the subtle loosening of his muscles under your fingers. "But I--"

"A friend of mine came to visit," you interrupted. His golden eyes flitted up to yours. "We grew up together, he's practically my brother. So we shared a meal, he sat on my bed while I sat at my vanity and brushed my hair and we talked. And when we parted ways, I hugged him goodbye."

You watched Geralt's face as you spoke, watched him absorb and process the information. You sighed deeply.

"Honestly, Geralt, you would have smelled it if I'd had sex in my bed recently," you teased him. Bit your lip on a grin when a slight flush colored his cheeks. He huffed.

"Wasn't thinking," he mumbled.

"Clearly," you agreed. You idly played with his hair. "Is that why you slathered me in your release like a painted whore?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. There was no irritation in your tone but he still ducked his head, abshed.

"I…." He trailed off, not seeming able to find the words to explain himself. You chuckled and stroked his hair again.

"I should make you jealous more often if it will get you to fuck me like that," you said with a dreamy sigh. His eyes narrowed at you and you smirked. "Big scary witcher, what are you going to do?"

Geralt rolled his eyes and sat up, holding your face in his hands as gently as if you were made of porcelain, and kissed you slow and languid. You sighed and climbed onto his lap, melting into his embrace. His hands slid down your back.

"I'm sorry I didn't trust you," he murmured after he eventually pulled away, hands splayed on your tailbone.

You smiled ruefully, resting a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry I caused you hurt. All's forgiven?"

Geralt pulled you closer, rested his cheek atop your head. "So long as you're still mine," he murmured.

You pressed your cheek to his chest, curling up to him. "Always." You pressed a kiss to his chest, tilted your head back to look up at him. "So…." You skimmed your fingertips up his biceps, smirking as the hairs rose in the wake of your touch. "Round two?" you suggested. You grinned at the way his pupils dilated.

You were really glad he was home.


End file.
